Immortals
by S. Whisper
Summary: AU: Sam Manson is stuck in a puzzle; here she is, an assassin, being held like a prisoner in the ghost king's castle in the middle of a war about to break loose. She can't tell what thoughts are hers or thoughts forced on to her. Nothing makes sense anymore. Her world both is breaking, both in reality and in her head. Prepare, it's telling her, for the War of the Dead.
1. The Days Are Numbered

**Hopefully you like it!**

* * *

IMMORTALS

CHAPTER ONE:

 _There's A Good Reason The Days Are Numbered._

* * *

"Fantasy is hardly an escape from reality. It's a way of understanding it."

\- Lloyd Alexander.

* * *

Fairytales should only be told to the young, the old, or the people who were downright mad. This thought kept coursing throughout Samantha Manson's head again and again as she listened quietly to her mother's chirpy, cheerful voice as it blabbed on about some new kind of hat. Her father stood chatting quietly with one of his many colleagues from work that were visiting -this one was William something, Samantha hadn't really been paying attention to majority of the introductions- and were causing quite a bit of work for the servants to clean up later in the evening. For some reason her mother had wanted her to stay by her side, even more so than usual, and when she had asked 'why' earlier her mother had just smiled secretly and tapped her nose with a sharp finger. 'You'll see, Sammy. Just trust me, honey!' she had sugarcoated before skipping off out of Samantha's purple bedroom quarters and out of eyesight.

"-Won't you, Samantha?" Pamela Manson's voice startles the raven-haired girl, who's eyes immediately meet her mother's teal ones.

Samantha bites her bottom lip. "I'm so sorry, can you repeat the question?" she asks, lowering her gaze to the lap of her silky, navy-blue dress.

A scowl crosses her mother's frail features before it disappears just as fast as it came. "Mrs. Richards was just wondering if you would accompany her son as his dance partner later this evening," Pamela says, taking small sips of her tea trying desperately not to smear her lipstick on the rim. Mrs. Richards -a tiny, forty-year old with large brown eyes- nods her head confirming the words Pamela had said, this actions causes her short greying curls to bounce around her face.

"Oh, well, I guess I could be," Samantha says, brushing a lock of hair behind her ear.

Pamela beams brightly, clapping her white-gloved hands together. "Oh joy! Your father and I have the perfect dress for you to wear, Sammykins!"

The comment causes Samantha to blink, confusion coloring her eyes. "Is there something wrong with this dress?" she challenges calmly, Mrs. Richards smiles warmly at the girl while scooting her chair closer to the table. A couple of the table's other occupants giggles quietly, Pamela smiles shaking her head silently. Everyone was happy for some unknown reason that, apparently, Samantha was not informed of. Not likt was surprising. "And I'm left out in the dust..." Samantha mutters quietly to herself, taking a gulp of her now cold tea.

"Honey," Pamela sighs. "A surprise a surprise, you just have to wait and see."

The amethyst-eyed girl leans back in her chair very un-ladylike, practically sneering at her mother. "I'm tired of waiting, waiting is all I do."

No comment from her mother appears, for once it seems that Pamela Manson had nothing to say to her only daughter. Samantha sucks in a breath and stands up, her chair grinding against the floor loudly, "Excuse me," she says quickly before turning on her heel. She stands there for a moment compossing herself. Breathe in, breathe out, in, out, in, out...

 _It's not working..._

Samantha speedwalks through the guests all chatting through the palor and drawing room, occasionaly muttering apologies to people, she had to get out of here. Out of this room, away from all these people who were all strangers to her, none of them could care less about her. And her mother was included in that catagory. She could feel the stares people were giving her as she makes her way through the crowd, making a bee-line to the grand stairs. They were judging her before they knew her, this is one of her pet peeves about people, they knew her name but no her. Samantha Manson, freak.

Breathe. Just breathe.

"-What's wrong with her?"

"-werido."

"-drunk."

"-biopolar girl! She was just sittin' there, sippin' at her tea, then she pops off and is causin' a scene!"

 _Just breathe, Samantha, your almost there..._

A gentle hand places itself on her shoulder. "Samantha...? Are you alright, dearie?" Ida Manson asks catiously, rubbing her granddaughter's shoulder with the pad of her thumb, concern overwhelms her grey, twinkling eyes. Without sayin a word, Samantha brushes the hand away.

* * *

TWO YEARS LATER

* * *

"Let me go!" cries Sam Manson as she attempts to fight of the strong pair of hands wrapped firmly around her midsection, she hits and screams with such a ferocity that the man holding her almost let's her go by accident. "Come on, jackass, it'll be so much easier if you would release me," she says, a small grin curling her painted lips.

His grip on her tightens at the nickname causing the grin on her face to transform into one of pain. "For you, yes, but for me?" he asks almost innocently, "Phantom would never forgive me and I would most likely be a new caretaker for Youngblood to mess with. No thank you."

Sam makes no comment of the name-Youngblood-she quietly files that away in her head for later, it was a ghost most likely, this Youngblood person. Majority anything weird these days were; the clocks going all funny, the weather changing rapidly at random, fully grown trees popping out of no where. It all fell under that category. Some people freaked out during all these events, but Sam had somehow managed to get past her shock and go look for whatever had caused these things, needless to say she found out sooner or later. Felt like later in her eyes, it had taken almost a year and a half to get to the spot she's in today.

A pretty terrible spot, mind you.

Any normal girl would love to be in her situation, Sam was sure of this, being held by one guy while another is awaiting her arrival. But Sam being Sam, wants nothing more than to kick both of them where it hurts.

"Aw, finally got nothing to say, Violet?" Tucker practically smirks at her.

"Do you?" Sam shoots back before she roughly elbows him in the stomach causing him to stubble back, releasing her as he did so, she quickly dashes off down the elaborate hall, out of sight.

She keeps running even when Tucker's yelling for the guards to come and get her. The air in the palace feels harsh to her skin, she didn't even know how the heck there was air in the ghost's realm without trees but that really didn't matter now.

It's terrifying to think that she's surrounded by death everywhere she looked, the people around her were dead a long time ago, still are, but here they were; standing, talking, even dancing around without a care in the world. Kind of inspiring when you think about. Even in death there's happiness, even in death life goes on. _Till death do us apart_ seems like a huge lie to her now that she thinks about it carefully.

Everything ends sooner or later, soon those dancing ghosts wouldn't be dancing anymore they'd be invading the human world again. Slaughtering people without mercy. It's hard for Sam to imagine that, they just look so human to her when she sees them. But they were slaughtering people, not man-slaughtering, slaughtering by the dozen. World War II all over again.

They're exterminating innocent people without mercy. Ghosts can't show mercy, they just can't. Right...? They don't have feelings.

She's arguing to herself now like a crazy person.

But if they don't have feelings then how can they get mad or show pain when ghosthunters fight back, those are emotions. They probably have limited emotions, or they can only feel those two. That makes no sense to her.

It's all impossible.

It's all possible at the same time.

Nothing fits together in her head, it's like pieces of the puzzle are missing or are simply refusing to fit together for her. It's not an easy puzzle she's trying to solve, god no, it's more like a thousand piece puzzle of a black picture. And she's the unfortunate girl, who's never been one for puzzles, that has to solve one on her own. Wonderful, just wonderful.

 _Run!,_ her mind is practically screaming at her, _just get away!_

Just run away from the puzzle and try to find the picture to copy it, piece per piece, no matter how long it takes.

And that's what repeats through her head like a chant as she skids past sharp corners, sliding past opened doors, and running past surprised servants. It's way too quiet for a ghost inhabited place, for dead spirits they were very loud than anything else Sam's ever heard, Tucker had been yelling for guards earlier to get her.

 _So where are they?_ , Sam thinks quietly to herself. There's something warm on her shoulder she realizes, her head whips around to meet the emerald-green eyes of an amused female ghost with flaming blue hair and the palest skin Sam's ever seen.

"Now what the heck are you doin' here, dipstick?" She asks, smirking slightly, "Phantom will be so happy."

Sam faintly registers these words, her vision blurring slightly, "What-?" she begins but is cut off by the fact there's a gloved hand covering her mouth and it's glowing with ectoplasmic energy. She screams as she looses consciousness, the last she sees is the flaming-haired girl's eyes flashing a dangerous red.

* * *

 _"She did what?"_

Tucker flinches slightly at the tone of Phantom's voice, "Ember knocked her out with help of Skulker, it was the only way to obtain her, Danny."

Phantom nods mutely, plopping down on the available chair in the control room, "I guess so, but we need her awake and you know that," he says, placing his white boots on top of the table much to Tucker's amusement.

"Hey!" Tucker complains, lightly swatting his leg, "Don't do that to poor Susan!" This earns a laugh from the white-haired ghost.

"I'm the king, dude, and really? Susan?"

"Shut up!"

"Wasn't Susan the name of that girl from-?"

"I said 'shut up!', _your royal highness_ ," Tucker says, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Phantom raises his hands in a sorry gesture, his green eyes clearly saying he wasn't, he stands up again and saunters over to the table Tucker was busy focusing on.

"Where is Violet Rose anyway?" Phantom asks curiously, before quickly adding, "Not that I care or anything but I'm just curious, you know?"

His friend laughs, "It's your castle, man, you know where they put humans who aren't with you," he says, adjusting his glasses, still looking at the piece of technology he was editing at the moment with a screwdriver in hand.

Phantom rubs the back of his neck, a nervous habit of his, "Oh. Yeah, sorry, forgot."

" _Sure you did_."

"I will feed Susan to Cujo again," Phantom says seriously, Tucker drops his screwdriver as his eyes widen in horror. The ghost grins, letting his friend know he was teasing, before he zips out of the room off to god knows where leaving papers flying around the room.

Tucker groans, "Does he have to do that...?" he asks to no one in particular, crouching down the pick up the papers before Jazz, Phantom's sister, has a heart attack when she walks in and sees the papers she spent hours organizing yesterday on the floor. Didn't want another member of the small royal family threaten to smash Susan in some creative way again.

As of late Danny had been so tense about something, to more specific, about someone. Ever since Clockwork had requested to speak with him, everyone in the Ghost Zone had been ordered to watch out for a girl called Violet Rose, who was apparently an assassin of some sort, and if anyone had found her send word to the palace or to the prison warden, Walker.

When asked about this earlier, Danny -in King Phantom mode- had claimed it was for reasons all his own and they left it at that.

Thank god too. If whatever Clockwork said influenced Danny then it was most likely too poetic for Tucker's tastes, he was never one for poetry, but that still didn't stop him from being curious. After all Danny and him were best friends for years and always had each other's back, no matter what, and if Danny didn't tell him what was going on it English then it was something too big for him to know yet.

But knowing Danny Fenton/Phantom like he did, Tucker would be informed sooner or later in the future when the time was right.

When all is, to quote the time-master himself, as it should be.

Picking up the last piece of paper, Tucker stands back up on his feet, dropping the small pile on the empty countertop next to the computer monitor. He walks back to the area he was standing earlier and grabs a chair to sit in while he works, he plops himself down, and places the ecto-gun usually strapped to his waist on top of the table with a loud CLANK.

Lately all the gun's had been going off at random, they had discovered this one day when they had gone off near Danielle, and they all had to be checked for any bugs or problems in the wiring or software. Every single one. From the standard gun to the shields.

 _Better get started_ , Tucker thinks as he opens the gun's wiring compartment, the various wires all spark when it opens. Smoke escapes the small compartment quickly causing him to cough and waft the scent away with his hand.

"What the hell?" he mutters as he grabs the scalpel to get a better look at the problem, he pushes his falling glass up, and looks closer. His eyes widen a what he sees in the small space. "Oh shit."

* * *

Ember McClain knew who was at the door before she even phased her head through the door invisibly. With a sigh she opens the door, revealing Danny Phantom himself hovering with an eyebrow up in confusion. She stands, leaning slightly against the doorframe, with stiff shoulders and her hands resting causally at her sides. Any human or ghost would be terrified to see Phantom knocking on their doors, although he only knocks for the chivalry of it, but Ember was surprisingly calm with the situation. When one was, sometimes still is, an enemy of the phantom you do tend to get used to him and his 'scary eyes'.

The scary eyes used to scare her of course but now it was like someone bought a glow-stick and shook it too hard. Ember laughs lightly at this thought for a moment, Phantom watches emotionless.

"Why did you help Tucker catch her?" he asks bluntly. Ember crosses her arms over her chest, mimicking his posture. _The least he could say was thank you_ , she thought, _'oh thank you so much, Ember, for capturing dark Rapunzel!'_

"Is there a problem, baby-pop?" she counters back, her hair flaring up an inch at her annoyance.

"No, no, no problem at all. Just me wondering around and checking up on people is all," Phantom says, smiling slightly at her. "Nothing more, nothing less."

 _Damn boys and their egos._

Ember's purple painted lips frown at him, clearly not buying the excuse at all. She grabs her guitar and slips it on, her fingers toying with the strings creating a soft melody. "You and I both know that's bull, dipstick, now what is it you really want?"

Phantom winces at her words that clearly hit him, "Okay...you got me, Em. I need you to watch Jazz for a bit."

"Isn't she your older sister? She doesn't need a babysitter, you need it more," Ember states, adjusting with the guitar strap on her shoulder, this earns her a grunt from the halfa in front of her. "Don't deny it, _your own daughter_ said so herself."

This remark passes over his head completely, he grabs the diva's gloved hand with his own. "I'm serious, I can't leave Jazz alone right now in her condition. _I just can't."_

She floats out of the doorway to stand next to him, the door closing and disappearing by itself. "What's wrong with her?" Ember asks, Phantom sighs and begins to fly back towards the castle, she follows him more than a little annoyed that he wasn't apparently going to tell her straight away. This was all a way too normal habit Phantom had picked up recently in the past week.

He'd show up, seemingly out of nowhere, talk, then have someone follow him back to the palace grounds. Then once they've entered the building he'd explain. That's how it now went, anyone could ask all they want and he'd stay silent until the palace.

 _Silent as a phantom_ , Ember thought, silently laughing at her own joke.

"Is she alright?" She asks, no response. "Are you gonna pay me to watch her, baby-pop? You should, seeing as I'm doing a job for you, _your highness,"_ she says, voice dripping with sarcasm at the name. Everyone knew he still wasn't used to the formal titles bestowed upon him, more like forced, and that it made him uncomfortable.

"Sire," Ember tries again.

No response.

"My lord, King Phantom, Great One, his royal highness, King Halfa," She continues but soon runs out of names, "Are you going ignore me? You shouldn't because I can blast you all the way to the palace _myself,"_ she strung random cords on her guitar for proof. No response escapes Phantom, he just continues to fly, Ember flies faster so that she's right next to him.

"The girl, Violet Rose, she knows something," Ember says simply, Phantom looks at her, "I could tell by her reactions to things. She knows something, something she can't remember."

Even though he doesn't say a thing, his expressions indicate they'd talk more about this later on. Finally, they reach the palace entrance and the guards nod a sign of respect towards the white-haired phantom before allowing him and Ember in. Once inside, he motions for her to follow him again through the halls, she complies but floats while he walks.

"Jazz," Phantom begins, sighing a bit, "Had an accident a couple days ago."

Ember blinks, nodding. "Is red alright, dipstick? Hate for you to go through pain because of her and not me."

Laughing a little, he opens a door, "Well..." he trails off, indicating for her to look. Ember lands on the floor silently next to Phantom, tilting her head to the side to look at the image in front of her carefully, her emerald-green eyes widen a bit and she looks at him as if asking if this were happening. He nods, pursing his lips tightly.

"What the-?" The rocker begins, shaking her head, taking a step back, her back almost hitting the wall.

Phantom bounces on his feet, "See why I need you to watch her?" he asks, earning a indulgent remark from the room's occupant.

"Unfortunately, yeah."

* * *

 _Next time in_ _ **Chapter Two: Silent As The Stars.**_

 _Hovering a few feet in the air, she bolts to the door and quickly turns the knob but to no avail, it was locked. With fearful emerald-green eyes, Danielle pounds her fists against the door harshly, "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Please, get me out!" she yells loudly, she hears no response. Pressing her left ear against the wooden door, her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she listens carefully._

 _Oh my god. Danielle thinks, this can't be happening. No, no, no...I can't...This can't..._

 _A hand grips her shoulder so tightly she swears she can hear a crack, pain clouds her vision entirely. Danielle cries out in pain, her breathes shaking, as she powers up a weak ecto-blast in the palm of her hand._

* * *

 **Tell me what you all think! I'd really appreciate it.**


	2. Silent As The Stars

**HI HERE'S THE SECOND CHAPTER**

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IMMORTALS

CHAPTER TWO:

 _Silent As The Stars_

* * *

"There's a story behind every person.

There's a reason they are what they are.

They aren't just like that because they want to.

Something in the past created them, and sometimes it's impossible to fix them."

 _\- Unknown_

* * *

Dani Phantom groans as she lands on her plush bed, bright white-blue rings transforming her back into Danielle Fenton in an instant. The bed squeaks and groans from pressure, Danielle ignores this as she rolls around happily on her purple blankets. She was so tired from training, and this bed was soft. That meant one thing, nap time for her.

Normally the young princess would complain that she wasn't tired but today however was exhausting. Her dad, the infamous Danny Phantom, had told her to train hard this week because he was finally taking her to the human world for the first time. Her in the human world sounded so exciting, there was so many things to do over there; go swimming, eat all different kinds of sweets, hug alive puppies (she loved Cujo, really, but he kept slobbering her in droll), and feel the sun's warmth were just some of the thing she could do.

At least that's what her storybooks said, Aunt Jazz said _'Every story was true'_ and Clockwork said _'In some time and place they have happened'_. Neither of them would lie to her.

She nuzzles her face against her pillow, her side burns still slightly from the ecto-gun malfunction, she rolls again before stretching like a cat. Content at the moment, Danielle hums happily, reaching for the book on her nightstand. To any normal girl it would've weighed a ton but to her, it barely weighs a thing. Sitting criss-cross, she opens it to a random page that shows a picture of a girl in a pink dress about to kiss a frog.

Touching the page to follow as she read causes it to glow a red aura, her baby-blue eyes widen and she throws it on the floor. _Red is never good_ , her dad told her, _if you see it, leave it alone._

The Princess watches with wide eyes as the picture disappears and the words jumble together to form strange symbols, the red aura gets brighter and more fierce as something appears. The character from the page appears right in front of her, from the blonde hair to the pink dress.

"Hello," She says with a high pitched voice, "Do you want to play, _Princess Phantom_?" she sneers, pink lips parting to reveal sharp rows of teeth.

Danielle jumps on her bed, summing the white-blue transformation rings that quickly turn her into her ghost form, with flashing emerald-green eyes she lunged at the fairytale creature. The ghost girl grabs onto the princess monster's shoulders and immediately throws her against the closet, which splits down the middle on impact causing clothes to fly everywhere.

The creature screams in anger, Danielle grins, "What? You started it, blondie, so I'm going have to finish it," she forms an ecto-blast in the palm of her hand, once fully formed, she launches it at the seething creature. "Hope you don't mind."

Green flares throughout the entire room, the ghost girl shuts her eyes tightly at attempt to block out the bright lights. It doesn't work. Green flashes across black, almost like lightning, across her vision with a loud, sickening, CRACK. Something knocks Danielle out of the air and into her bed's headboard harshly, a ringing makes itself known in her ears. Placing both hands on either side of her head, she confirms that it was coming from her, before snapping her eyes open.

What she sees makes her want to close her eyes again but she's stuck staring at the scene in front of her.

The creature's skin seems to be peeling off slowly revealing a green, almost black skeleton hunching forward. The skin pile on the carpet increasing with each second, surprising the process is silent. She had expected the eerie sound of something coming undone, or the sound of nails on a chalkboard. The silence of it seems to only increase the fear coursing through Danielle, her heart beats wildly in her chest, that being the only thing she could hear even with her super-hearing.

Hovering a few feet in the air, she bolts to the door and quickly turns the knob but to no avail, it was locked. With fearful emerald-green eyes, Danielle pounds her fists against the door harshly, "Hello? Can anyone hear me? Please, get me out!" she yells loudly, she hears no response. Pressing her left ear against the wooden door, her heart thumping loudly in her ears, she listens carefully.

 _Oh my god_. Danielle thinks, _this can't be happening. No, no, no...I can't...This can't..._

A hand grips her shoulder so tightly she swears she can hear a crack, pain clouds her vision entirely. Danielle cries out in pain, her breathes shaking, as she powers up a weak ecto-blast in the palm of her hand. Without thought she turns sharply on her heel and strikes the creature right in the ribs, it stumbles back, a green aura surrounding it.

"An eye for an eye," The white-haired ghost girl says smugly, "That's how the saying goes!" She grins weakly through the pain, as she quickly summons ecto-energy into her right boot before kicking the creature in the skeletal, facial area. It slices through the bone smoothly, so smoothly it sickens her, leaving a faint green aura of power behind. "At least that's how I _think_ it goes, never know, probably won't ever know."

Growling the creature screeches with animal fury, a fury Danielle has seen both humans and ghosts show in the Ghost Zone, it runs with the speed of one of the Zone's ancients. Faster than Frostbite, faster than Princess Dora, faster than Lady Pandora...She rated the names through her head.

The little ghost, who sadly has her father's cluelessness DNA, was lost in her own little world again, this gave the creature enough time to bite her stomach's bare side deeply. She yelps, punching the creature away.

"Thank you for your time, _My lady_ ," the creature says, it's form shifting back into the blonde-haired princess from her story book, "But now I must be taking my leave, farewell," it says, bowing mockingly. In a flash it fades out of existence leaving Danielle breathing deep with a ugly bruise forming on her hip. With shaky breathes, she grips her hurt shoulder weakly.

"Jesus Christ, _Jesus Christ_.." She says, her voice shaking, "I'm never touching that book _again_."

Sam Manson's amethyst-colored eyes flutter open, she intakes a deep breath before letting it out slowly. Carefully, she sits up and takes a look at her surrounds, ignoring the banging coursing through her head. Everything blurs for a minute, eventually clearing up.

Dark grey-black cemented walls surround her entirely, the only openings in the room being the small 'window' on the far right corner of the room -Sam swears she can she dried blood and ectoplasm on it's railings- and the small hole in the center of the metal door that had no handle on her side. The room smells like it's been bleached over and over again every week. She was sure of this, being in the assassin business you learn these things sooner or later.

The sound of her breathing echoes back at her.

Placing her head in her hands, she sighs, it felt like she was in an insane asylum. All she was missing was the white, cotton straightjacket and she'll be set. A thought suddenly occurs to her; _Did Phantom send her to an asylum?_ A fear, something she hasn't felt in a long time, flashes through her. It flairs through her veins, resurfaces old memories. Memories she would want to someday look back on, but right now wasn't the time.

Rubbing her face with the palms of her hands, Sam stands up on her feet, wobbling slightly as she did so. "Phantom..? Are you here?" She asks, carefully choosing her words. Her voice sounds rough to her own ears, most likely from lack of water, it also sounds weak and just... _pathetic_. "Okay, so that's a no, then...Don't know if I should be happy or confused..."

 _How about a little bit of both?,_ a little voice in her head asks, _two is better than one after all!_

"What?" Sam asks, confusion shining in her eyes, "Who are you? What are you?"

A giggle echoes through her head, it's pitch raising with each second. _Oh! I see why now...,_ it says in a teasing tone that stops the girl's questioning look. She stands there, blinking at the words that came, it made no sense at all to her. Every bit of her urges to ask question after question until she reaches the full truth. Piece after piece.

The door opens with a CLANK revealing the glowing form Danielle Phantom and the lanky form of Tucker Foley, who currently was frowning grumpily at the younger girl.

"See? Told you she was awake!" Danielle giggles, pointing to her ears, "Always right!" she says in a sing-song voice before hopping into the air, floating two feet off the ground. Tucker grumbles something under his breath that Sam couldn't hear correctly but Danielle clearly did, for she punches him playfully. He yelps in pain, rubbing his sore arm the girl had attacked. "Hello, Violet, I'm Danielle Phantom and this is Sir TF, that in his foregin language means TF - as in, Too Fine. Don't look at me like that, Violet, it's true."

Tucker gave the white-haired girl a look, "I can introduce myself here, Elle. Hello," He says to Sam, slicking his hair back, causing Danielle to burst out in a fit of giggles, "As my little _thing_ here said, I'm TF."

"Oh, really?" Sam asks, crossing her arms over her chest, "Prove it."

Danielle plants her feet onto the ground, motioning for Sam to follow her, "As much as I'm loving this, Tucker and I have to get you upstairs ASAP." Tucker nods, confirming the princess' words.

Both of them begin to walk back they way they came leaving Sam no choice but to follow, Danielle, she notes, is floating ahead of both humans and one of her shoulders are lower than the other. Tucker walks behind the ghost, his hand gripping the mundane human gun resting on his belt.

Sam can barely see in the dark stair corridors, the only light source being the old-fashioned oil lamps and the ghost princess' white aura. It's more than a bit annoying that she has to look directly at a member of Phantom's family in order to see clearly. _'Only eyes washed by tears can see clearly',_ as the quote went. If the saying was in fact true, then wouldn't kids be the ones to see the clearest? That was probably why they always told the truth.

A thought suddenly blinks through her head; Do ghosts cry? No, they couldn't. It wasn't possible.

They weren't alive. No blood flow, no breathing, no hunger. That's what the scientists said, anyway. She wasn't one to normally agree so easily about anything without looking at both sides evenly and attempting to figure out the believable and the downright insane. But when it came to the topic of ghosts, she only knew a handful of things. She knew that some ghosts have powers, some appear translucent - usually the weaker ones - and that they were myths up until a couple years ago. No one knew what to believe anymore, they all wondered if anything else were real. Children thought the humanoid ghosts were superheroes like the ones in comics and on the TV, teens thought the world was going to end, adults attempted to be brave for their kids, the elderly were freaked out.

So normal, human, reactions that you'd expect the people of Amity Park to show.

As they went higher and higher up the narrow steps, the energy powered lights from the corridor can be seen slightly from where Sam was standing. With a small laugh Danielle flips in the air, lands somehow perfectly on her white-booted feet, striking a silly pose that involves her sticking out her tongue and crossing her emerald-green eyes that flash a brighter shade. Tucker raises an eyebrow, smiling at her antics before cocking his head to the right.

"Come on, _Princess_ , why don't you show _his highness_ your skills?" He asks, sarcasm dripping at the titles. Danielle purses her lips, making small humming noises.

"I dunno, Tucker," She says, her lips curling up in a evil grin, "Would you do some tricks, too? Like maybe a summersault, or a cartwheel, or-"

"-Honey, I'd land right on my perfect face and your dad will wonder how the heck you convinced me to do it."

Danielle huffs, blowing her bangs out of her eyes, "Now here's the part where I say, 'I have ghost powers and I'm the princess so I can make you do it'. But hey, I'm wiped out and I'm being nice so I won't," She says, hovering once again in the air. Without Sam saying a thing, Danielle grabs her hand gingerly and pulls her towards the right corridor.

This corridor is nearly identical to the ones she had run through earlier. Same styled walls, same carpeted flooring. The only difference was the fact that these walls were bare, the only thing on them being the ancient torches used to light the halls hundreds of years ago. Sam wonders if all the halls look alike, if they did, how could anyone remember where everything was?

Ghosts and people associated with ghosts confuse her beyond belief.

The little Phantom has a tuff grip, she'll give her that, and she didn't appear to even put a lot of pressure on Sam's hand, no, this grip looks like she was being gentle. With only four fingers gripping her wrist lightly, and her grip was still somehow strong. _Damn ghost powers..._

* * *

"This is ridiculous," Danny Phantom complains, playing with his gloves, "This is stupid, this makes absolute no sense in anyway possible, not worth it. No, no, no..."

Clockwork sighs at the boy's antics, "Danny, this does in fact make sense. You just aren't seeing it in the right perspective," He says, his purple-and-blue form shifting into that of a young child's, "Try and imagine what it'll do to the Ghost Zone and Human World."

" _I am_."

Princess Dora smiles,"Sir Phantom, why don't you really think seriously about it? Do you not wish to?" She asks in her normal soft as a feather voice. Since Phantom had ended Prince Aragon's tyrant reign, her kingdom had begun to advance at it's own pace the speed was speed up even more with the time master's assistance. As of right now, they were around the early nineteenth centuries.

The white-haired king groans, hitting his head against the head of his thrown, "Once again; _I am_."

None of this made sense to Phantom, _none of it_. It was downright frustrating to him, Clockwork and the others keep on trying to get him to think about it again and again. He had thought about it but with them repeating it time and time again, he simply forgot about it. Not his fault. It couldn't be his fault. It wouldn't.

Not if he has any say in it.

He has been blamed for such stupid things before in the past; jewelry, money, hell - even kidnapping! When none of it had been his fault. Now if you blame him right now, it was true. He had done those things. But not back then when they accused him.

He made their lies into truth.

"Great One," Frostbite began, "I do understand if you are tired and wish for slumber but we do need an answer about this matter."

"I know," Phantom responds back, "I know. I'll have an answer ready for you in two days, alright?"

Clockwork bows his head, "Two days, Daniel, that's all we can spare. All kingdoms wish to know right away."

"Why's there such a rush anyway, Clockwork? Who rushes into this?" Phantom asks, still leaning against the head of the thrown.

The green-skinned princess responds instead, "The people do need enough time to prepare the armies and the commoners for the days to come, Sir Phantom, even though they've already started-"

"- _They've started?"_ Phantom begins, standing up, emerald-green eyes flashing in warning, "On who's order? This is downright ridiculous, all of you come here and tell me to think about it carefully but you don't need me to, no, because the kingdoms have already started preparing for war. You don't need silly, young Phantom. You just need him distracted while the 'adults' deal with the problems? Is that it? Me, a child throwing a tantrum, and the adults don't know how to respond to the truth?"

No response follows. The only sound being the soft 'tick-tock' of the time master's clocks, ticking off the minutes.

"How pitiful," The ghost king finishes, "Meeting adjured, you'll still get your answer in two days time but most likely not one you'll like."

Dora shakes her head, her blond curls bouncing, "You can't end this meeting on such a bad note."

"Too late. Already did."

Frostbite gently grabs the princess and walks through a small portal the time master had created earlier, both leave silently without a farewell. Clockwork floats over to the portal and makes a move to leave. "Daniel, you are becoming just as bad as him, you know this to be true?"

Phantom turns his back to him, choosing to focus more on the jeweled decorated objects in the room, "I doubt that I'm even as close to him."

Silence floods the room like a tsunami after an earthquake, all at once then increasing by the second. Some people, humans, may drown from lack of air, ghosts won't. Ghosts keep on being dead. That's how it always went, that's how it's meant to go. Time can sometimes be re-written giving the circumstances, as can fate, but the key DNA factor of beings? No. It's not allowed, mother nature simply disagrees with it entirely.

It's set in stone, the same stone millions of beings have found and had been burnt by.

You get too close and people get burnt.

People die. People get tortured. People get scarred both physically and mentally. Worst of all; people don't forget.

What goes around comes around, honey, so you better start running for your life.

* * *

 _Next time in_ ** _Chapter Three: **This** Is Were We Begin_** _._

 _Jazz Fenton sits up gingerly, her long fire-colored hair tickling her skin. Everything looks weird to her, everything seems to be various shades of black-and-white like an old movie. With a throbbing head and an aching heart she stands up, legs shaking slightly. Looking down at her palms she notices something. She can see her hands in color somehow, her pants are in color too; she can clearly see the bright-turquoise color of her skinny jeans. Glancing up she see's a familiar figure strumming her guitar, Ember McClain. The long dead rocker is black-and-white too, but there's something surrounding her, something brighter than her white aura. Jazz squints her eyes._

 _There, surrounding Ember, is a purple aura._

* * *

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